Into the West
by KayDrew
Summary: They had to say goodbye to him, but now they might have to say goodbye to another. I got this idea from a fan fic Baranor did. Thanks Baranor for the idea! Warning Character death.
1. Cold, but Worse

Merry watched with wet eyes as the ship with Frodo, Gandalf, Bilbo, Galadriel, and Celeborn departed into the west. Tears trickled down his face. "Oh Frodo," Merry whispered, kicking the ground a little.

He held onto his right arm. It was sore, even though it was two years after he had been wounded. The hobbit rubbed his arm and then tugged his Lorien cloak around him a little tighter.

Even though it was only September, it was getting cold and snow clouds were forming. His eyes drift upwards as the first few flakes fell. Merry blinked and shook his head to get the flakes out of his hair. He gave a heavy sigh when he looked back at the sea. Frodo's ship was no where in site any more.

Merry nodded good-bye to Sam and then trudged up the lightly, snow-covered hill where his awaiting pony – Shasta - was. Slowly Merry mounted. The hobbit stared around at the snow as it fell faster and the wind picked up. The halfling wrapped his cloak tightly around him. The elven cloak did not help keep the cold and wind from nipping at him and soon, he was soaked and cold to the bone.

Merry sneezed greatly and wiped his nose on his cloak as he started for Brandyhall. _Just what I need, a cold, _he thought, flicking his reins and heading home. When Merry got home it was evening.

Hurriedly he undressed out of his wet clothing and into war and dry ones so that he would not get any sicker. Then the Master of Buckland went to the dining room where there was cream of broccoli soup with crusty bread and hot tea. He sat at and ate his share and when he was done, Merry went to his library so that he could read. The hobbit grabbed a favorite book of his and sat down in his favorite, and most comfortable, chair. He began to read it, but soon fell sound asleep.

A fever started to brew and a watery sound echoed from his chest with each breath that he took. Merry woke hours later. The sun had dipped well into West and the only light that lit his room was the full moon; his fire had even burnt out. He would have slept there all night in that char if a horrible coughing fit had not jarred him awake. He leaned against the chair, depleted of all energy. He tried to draw air in, but it was near impossible. His lungs felt like they were on fire and as if someone had bound his chest – restricting his muscles. Merry's whole body ached and he felt as if someone had decided to set him on fire he was so hot. Yet, at the same time he was cold and he shivered because of it.

Merry blinked and tried to get his bearings. By the time he had another coughing fit come over him. He tried to hold it in, but Merry could not. His body was wracked with these horrible coughs that made every lick of air in his inflamed lungs leave and when he tried desperately to retrieve some of the precious air, it only made it worse. The convulsions lasted longer then the first one had and left him feeling worse then before. Merry closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. The air felt so good coming into his scorched lungs, though when it he breathed out, it was torture. His whole body - lungs and all - screamed out in pain and protest with each exhale. _Why did this have to be so painful,_ Merry wondered. He did not know that this was just the beginning.


	2. Spreading

Pansy Sackville-Bracegirdle shivered in the cold as she trudged down the lane. Winter had come early this year, and the most prestigious hobbit in the Shire, Frodo Baggins, was gone or so people were saying. She trudged through the snow, wondering why Frodo had left the Shire. Pansy had long been an admirer of Hobbiton's most eligible bachelor and she had dreamed of becoming his bride one day. That day would never come now though.

Her toes sunk into the snow, and it chilled her to the bone. _Why did work have to fall on such a cold day, _she thought as she went onwards towards the Green Dragon Inn; she worked where she worked as a waitress.

When she arrived, there was a strange sign upon the door. Coming closer to examine it, it read: _ Closed-- No admittance, except on employee business_.

"Oh dear me," Pansy whispered, her breath clouding in front of her. The last time the Green Dragon was closed with a sign in front, something horrible had happened in the Shire.

Taking a deep breath, Pansy pushed open the door, ringing the little bell attached to it. Everyone was gone, and with no real explanation. Feeling a little worried, Pansy decided to walk out to the Gamgees' residence at Bag End. _I hope that Rosie's okay_, Pansy thought as she went.

She walked up the small stone steps and up to the green door. There were many scratch marks, presumably from a wooden staff. _I remember that old wizard always liked to visit the Bagginses_, she thought. This memory made her think of young Master Frodo again, but she shook her head to clear it away as the hobbit lass knocked on the door.

When no one answered, Pansy walked into Bag End, hoping that nobody would be upset at her for just barging in. Something told her that it would not be a good idea to just wait around.

Pansy walked down the hall hastily when she heard Eleanor's cries. She found Elanor sitting on the floor next to her mother, Rosie, who looked awful laying there in bed. She was pale, and her cheeks were flushed. Pansy picked up the toddler and set her down on the bed next to Rosie, which calmed the baby down a little. Rosie smiled weakly and said in a raspy voice, "Thank you."

"Oh my Rosie, whatever is the matter? You look so pale," Pansy said, feeling her friend's forehead. It was hot to the touch, not a good sign.

"To tell the truth, I'm not sur-" Rose cut off in a coughing fit. This scared Elanor so much and she began to cry all over again. Pansy rubbed Rosie's shoulders as she coughed, and at the same time took Elanor up to calm her.

"You don't look too well. I think that we had better call the doctor. I think that you may have the snow flu." Pansy knew that she was probably right. After all, she had lost her grandfather Grodin to the sickness when she was a tween. Pansy left the room with the little girl and went to the child's room. She dressed Elanor warmly, let Rosie know that she was going to fetch a doctor and that her daughter would be quite safe with her. Pansy rushed out the door, carrying little Elanor with her, and down the street. The hobbit woman noticed that the doctor was putting up a sign down the road that read _'Quarantine'_. Pansy gasped and held Elanor tighter as she rushed up to the doctor. "Doctor Underhill, what happened? I need you to come see Rosie. I think she may have the snow flu."

The doctor sighed, and looked at her with tired eyes. "So do the Grubbs... and the Chubbs. Everyone's coming down with it this year. I think it might be because of this bloody weather, 'tain't natural," He said as he took his bag and began to go off in the direction of Bag End. Turning around, he said, "Thank you for letting me know. Take care of the little one until Rosie recovers."

Pansy walked quickly home after that. She shielded little Elanor as best she could from the wind and snow that was picking up. As she pushed open the door to her hobbit hole, she saw out across the Brandywine that Merry's large house had gone completely dark. _Strange_, she thought as Pansy set Elanor on the floor with some of her old toys, _Merry always has a nice fire going, especially in the winter. Perhaps later I could ask what happened to Frodo._

Curiosity plagued her mind. She desperately wanted to see why Merry had put out his fire. She shook her head, telling herself that she had a child to care for. The only problem now was how to take care of a child. Pansy had been an only child, and had no children of her own.

Taking Elanor up again, she wrapped her tightly and headed to Merry's hobbit hole to ask what happened to Frodo, and possibly get some help with the hobbit child.


	3. Help

Pansy reached the house at a turtles pace. The snow was up to her ankles and was still steadily falling. All of this snow and the cold made it rough traveling. She heaved a sigh when she finally did reach Merry's home. Shifting Elanor slightly, Pansy knocked on his door.

Merry groaned when he heard a soft knocking at his door. Had he locked it? He did not think so, but he could have; he could honestly not remember the last few hours. "I'm coming," he wheezed, which almost sent him into another coughing fit. That was something he did not want right this moment. He was stiff, so moving was hard, and coughing would make it impossible.

Slowly, Merry heaved himself up from his chair. His body protested, but he paid it no heed. Sluggishly, he trudged to the door, though every few feet he had to stop and rest, because he felt as if he might fall over from exhaustion. "I am coming," each time he would stop. Merry said that about ten times before he actually got to the door and opened it. A cold, nippy wind blew in and Merry shielded his face with his right arm. When the wind died down, he removed his arm. "Pansy," he panted.

A sudden fit of coughing took him when Merry had said her name. His whole body shook as he hacked his lungs out. Merry wrapped protective arms around his waist, letting the door handle go. He bent double and let the fit take its course. It lasted a good five minutes and when it was done, he felt, if it was possible, worse then he had. Slowly, Merry straightened and leaned against the door, trying to regain some of his strength. After a moment, he stood as tall as he could and placed a hand again on the door handle so that he could steady himself.

Merry looked at Pansy and Eleanor who stood at the door. Merry thought he saw two of them. He shook his head and blinked again. Merry saw just one of Elanor and Pansy.

The hobbit did not look well. He was pale and his skin was clammy. His eyes were red rimmed and watering and his honey curls were plastered to his head from the feverish sweat. He had a flush to his face and his chest rose spastically as he inhaled and exhaled. A funny sound came from his chest as he did so.

Shifting Elanor to her hip, she turned to Merry and the hobbit lass slowly walked him to his bed, helping him down the hall. He felt rather light from his ailment she noticed. The hobbit woman was worried about Merry. In fact she was so worried that thoughts of Frodo were gone. When Merry and Pansy finally made it to his bedroom, there was a nock on the door. "Just a half second!" she called as she led Merry to his bed and placed him in it. Pansy puffed his pillows up and then covered him. After making sure he was as comfortable as possible, she went to the door to see who it was.

Pansy opened the door and gasped. A fragile looking young hobbit stood there shivering from the wet and cold. His locks of hair were plastered to his head and his big green eyes looked frightened. "I-is Mr. Merry here?" the young lad stammered as Pansy ushered the boy in.

"Merry is ill with the winter flu, Dairmack…"

The young lad stood there shivering and sniffing. He grew quite pale and he looked at his face. "Oh," he whispered absently.

"Mack are you all right?" Pansy asked alarmed, "What happened." The she-hobbit led the young hobbit boy into the house.

"Me parents fell sick with the winter flu an' died. The healer couldn' come in time, Miss Pansy," he whispered as he placed his hands in his pockets of his frazzled pants, "I was comin' to let Mr. Meriadoc of this." The tween-aged boy sniffed and shuffled.

"Oh Dairmack, I am terribly sorry. Come in…come in an' get warm," Pansy said, ushering him to the kitchen and sitting him down. "I'll be back I need to check on Merry. If you leave before I return, do take care."

As Pansy left, Mack nodded. He saw parchment and quill lying on the table. _Mr. Merry told me that King Aragorn can heal anyone. He can help_, Dairmack thought as he took up the writing equipment. The servant hobbit was glad Merry had taught him to write and read books and maps.

_King Aragorn, We are in desperate need of your help here in the Shire. The winter weather is terribly cold and many of the hobbits are coming down with the winter flu especially because tis only September and the winter is too early. Our town doctor cannot see them all, nor does he have the skills needed to heal them. Mr. Merry an' countless others have fallen ill. Some are dyin' as we speak – includin' me parents. Haste is needed. We beg you to help. Sincerely, Dairmack. _The young hobbit closed up the letter and left the home. He would take this letter himself to Gondor.


	4. Finding Help

The King Aragorn was sitting by a fire in the great hall with his advisors and other nobles around him. They were making plans to restore the lower tiers of Minas Tirith once spring came. He had invited Legolas and Gimli to attend the meeting since he had appointed Legolas head over anything pertaining to nature within the city and Gimli was to oversee the rebuilding of the outer wall. The meeting was just about finished when a young boy came running into the great hall, a scroll in his hand. "Are ye King Aragorn," he managed to gasp. "I have come from the Shire, in Hobbiton. They...they need...you." The hobbit boy had his hands on his knees and he gasped for air.

The king looked at the hobbit that had come in. It was not often that hobbits came barging in here – especially unknown hobbits. "Yes, I am," he said.

After a moment, Dairmack had regained his breath and he quickly handed the King Aragorn the scroll. His cheeks were red from the cold. The poor hobbit had rode for three days – never stopping, not even for a second. He did not even know how he got there so quickly, but he had. Aragorn took the scroll quickly and then bade his servants to warm up the messenger and feed him something hot. He sat back down and unrolled it.

_"King Aragorn, We are in desperate need of your help here in the Shire. The winter weather is terribly cold and many of the hobbits are coming down with the winter flu especially because tis only September and the winter is too early. Our town doctor cannot see them all, nor does he have the skills needed to heal them. Mr. Merry an' countless others have fallen ill. Some are dyin' as we speak – includin' me parents. Haste is needed. We beg you to help. Sincerely, Dairmack._"

Quickly he arose and commanded that his horse be made ready and he himself ran to the Houses of Healing. The others sitting near him were astonished at his behavior and only Legolas, Gimli and Dairmack followed him. "Our friends have taken ill as well as other inhabitants of the Shire. All haste is needed. If you wish to ride with me ready your horses and I will meet you at the stables."

Aragorn ran on for a bit with young Dairmack behind him and arrived quickly at the Houses of Healing. Once there he requested that Ioreth pack for him all of the kingsfoil, rosemary, spearmint, sage and thyme that she could find. She quickly did so and Dairmack watched her with interest.

Just as the king was about to leave, did the boy speak up. "May I come with ye sir? I ca' help with anything ye may need help with. I am Dairmack, sir," the lad said.

The king turned and looked at the hobbit lad. Aragorn and nodding he ran to the stables. Once there he was met by Legolas and Gimli. Dairmack kept up with each step, but he was panting nonetheless when he got there.

The Queen Arwen also was there with questions in her eyes. Aragorn went to her and said, "Arwen, the hobbits are in need of aid. I swore to protect them during the war and I will do so afterwards. I must ride with all haste to the Shire. I do not know when I shall return but take up my seat in my stead." Kissing her on the cheek, he jumped upon his mount. Silently, he offered a hand to the hobbit boy so he could get up. When he had gotten on the horse Aragorn said, "Hold on tight."

The lad nodded his head. Yes sir," he said as they followed by Gimli and Legolas d out of the city at an incredibly fast pace. Turning to Legolas he said, "We will be able to reach the Shire within 3 days if we hold our pace and the weather is fair to us." Legolas nodded gravely as Gimli looked nervously to the foreboding sky – it looked like it could start snowing at any moment.


	5. Help Arrives

Aragorn, Dairmack, Legolas and Gimli rode with all haste that that they could muster to the Shire. The weather had not favorable to them however. They were considerably slowed by a snowstorm near Caradhras and were forced to wait another out near Rivendell. But they finally rode into the Shire 4 days after they had set out. Aragorn pulled his horse to a stop and jumped off, helping young Dairmack off as well. Legolas and Gimli got off their horse as well and looked about. Then, they slowly made their way to Merry's home for it had snowed quite a bit and the road's condition was not pleasant for their horses to tread through. Aragorn stopped near the sign that read, "Quarantine" and sucked in a breath of cold air as if to muster all his strength.

"Those signs are all over, sir," the lad said. He looked at the ground and shifted. He wished his home had that sign – at least then they would be alive, but nothing could be helped. "I had best get home, sir. I've got things to take care of," Dairmack said as he hurried off to his home.

The king nodded half-heartedly to the boy and after he had left, Aragorn picked up his pace. He was soon at the door of for Merry's home. Once he reached it he knocked hard twice on the door and waited for Merry to answer. No one answered though and so he cautiously opened it and stepped inside. It was almost completely dark within the small hobbit hole. That troubled Aragorn greatly. Concerned he called out, "Merry?"

Pansy had heard the knocks, but because Merry had such a fierce coughing fit, she couldn't get to the door before the three beings had entered the hobbit hole. She grabbed up Elanor and headed for the door. The young hobbit stopped and stared at Aragorn and the two others. Pansy was terribly frightened, seeing such a tall figure coming in from the snow. Though, something about his voice put the lass at ease, but that worried the girl even more. "Who are you, and why have you come?" she inquired as she held Elanor close.

"I am Aragorn," he replied. He looked kindly at Pansy, "You have no need to fear, my lady. I am here to help, not to harm." Looking at the child resting in Pansy's arms he asked, "Whose child is that?"

Merry, who had followed slowly and quietly behind Pansy, looked at Aragorn with a weary smile on his pale, clammy face. He gave a sigh of relief as well, that sent him into a flurry of coughing. The fit lasted a long time and when it finished he was out of breath. Slowly, he took in deep breaths and when he spoke, he rasped out, "Tis Samwise' daughter Eleanor." Merry took a step away from the door, which made him waver and fall because he was quite weak. Darkness took him and the next time he woke it was many hours later.


	6. Worse

Merry slowly blinked as he slowly woke and then moved his head so he could look around, but the hobbit could scarcely see. Where was he? Merry was not exactly sure for a moment, but soon realized he was in something soft. How long had he been there? Merry did not know, but Merry did know he did not feel any better from the time before. He felt worse in fact. His whole body felt as if it might explode or burn up. What had woken him? _Voices calling me_, Merry concluded, _but whom do they belong to? _The voices had been in a dream, but the ill hobbit was not aware of this.

Carefully he pushed himself up and glanced towards the door. "I'm in..." Merry called but he could not finish. The worst coughing fit he had ever had taken him over. The hobbit wrapped protective arms around his waist as the coughs shook his whole body. He felt like they would shake him apart! Why wouldn't they stop? They always had. He doubled over as he continued to cough. Oh, how painful it was_. It had been a cold. How could I be this bad? This sick_, he thought fearfully.

As Merry coughed, each shake the coughs brought on drove their way straight into Pansy's heart. It made her feel terribly ill. Swallowing, she attempted to hold him steady, but the barrage of coughs was too strong.

Aragorn looked at the hobbit worriedly. He then turned and looked at Legolas and Gimli. "Light a fire" he commanded. With a nod, they hurried to do so. The king sat near Merry and rubbed his back, gently trying to ease his friend's pain.

The fit of coughs went on for some time, even with the help of Pansy and Aragorn. He thought he would be driven insane from the pain, but they finally did stop. Merry closed his eyes and fell against Aragorns chest, too exhausted to sit up. His nightshirt and hair were damp from his fevered sweat. His chest rose erratically and a wet, thick sound came from with-in his chest.

Elessar looked at the woman hobbit. "Please, go get more Kingsfoil," he requested. With a nod, Pansy rushed off to gather more kingsfoil. She also felt that she needed to go find Peregrin Took. Pippin had to be there for Merry, it would help greatly, more so then the simple weed. The hobbit lass left and hurried off to try to find some kingsfoil. While out, Pansy passed Pippin's home. She went to his door and knocked.

Pippin had been warming his feet by the fire – which was about all Pippin could do at the time because of the storm, when a knock came to the door. With a sigh, Pippin went to the door.

Opening the door, the lad found the lass that often had served him his drinks at the Green Dragon. It was closed for quarantine, he at least knew that much. Looking at her face, Pippin noticed that Pansy's face was wrought with desperation.

Before Pippin could say hello, Pansy blurted, "Merry, he-he is sick with the winter flu." She shivered in the snow, not from the cold, but for fear. "Please, please, Pippin, help me. Aragorn has asked me to find Kingsfoil"

Pippin's face went almost as pale as Pansy's upon hearing that his best friend was terribly ill. Taking her hand in his, he whispered, "Come, there is no time to lose. Let's go fetch the athelas and go to Buckland" The two hobbits ran off into the darkness of night and through the snow.


	7. Hopeful Healing

Meanwhile, back in Brandyhall, Aragorn lifted Merry up off of his bed and carried him into the sitting room where Legolas and Gimli had a fire going in the fireplace. "It will be alright Merry," he reassured his friend as he then asked Legolas to move the couch closer to the fire. When this was done, he laid Merry down on it.

Going back into Merry's room, Aragorn took up as many blankets as he could and left the room. The king carefully laid them over his friend. He knelt near him and felt his forehead. Merry was drenched in sweat and hot to the touch. "Heat some water Gimli and bring it here," he commanded of his dwarven friend. The dwarf nodded and went off to find the kitchen. "When did you come down with this sickness? Do you know who came down with it first," Aragorn asked in a gentle voice.

Slowly, Merry opened his eyes. He saw Aragorn kneeling by him, though he was blurred. "Four days...right after Frodo left," Merry panted out in a hoarse voice. Slightly Merry shook his head. He did not know. "Everyone is coming down with Winter Flu," Merry hissed, coughing a few times, "No one gives it...it just invades." The hobbit cleared his throat, which turned out to be a mistake.

Merry sat up straight and then doubled over as yet another coughing fit came over him. When he was done hacking, he flopped down onto the couch, depleted of the little energy he had. Merry closed his eyes and did not move nor speak for a while; he seemed to doze. Then, after fifteen or so minutes Merry mumbled, as if recalling a memory, "Pip has had it - when he was little."

Gimli came back soon after with the heated water and brought it to the king of Gondor. Aragorn dipped some cloths in it and placed them on Merry's chest. He was hoping to soothe the coughs. With the rest of the water, he crushed the little athelas and rosemary he had brought into it and dipped another cloth in it and mopped Merry's forehead. He held the bowl before Merry's face for a bit also, to calm his coughs. The King, after he had finished giving Merry the concoctions, placed his hand on Merry's forehead once again and sighed inwardly. The fever was so high. Wearily, the ranger closed his eyes. The ride here had been trying because of the weather. When Merry said, "Pip has had it-when he was little." the king opened his eyes and whispered, "Then I must send for him at once. It is likely he is immune to this illness and perhaps he can tell what has been done for him when he had it."

Legolas and Gimli hastily rose and offered to go and find him. Aragorn nodded and they left to find Pippin. Elessar again turned to Merry and took his arm in his. He became alarmed when he found that it was somewhat cold. "Merry," he repeated to his fevered friend. "Your arm, does it hurt?" When a long pause followed, Aragorn bent forward and again said, "Merry, I must know if your arm hurts. I know it is hard but please answer me." He gave and encouraging smile to the ill hobbit.

As Aragorn placed the hot cloth was placed onto his chest, Merry felt his chest muscle spasm slightly, but they stopped and he relaxed. Some of the ache ebb away slightly even. Merry inhaled the strong, pungent aromas, making his bronchial tubes open up slightly, which in turn made his breathing easier than it had for the four days he had been ill. Slightly, the hobbit jumped when his healer placed a hand on his forehead. Merry's mind had drifted off to some far away place where it was a perfect day. Wearily Merry opened his eyes when Aragorn whispered his name.

"Everything hurts," Merry mumbled, "My chest…my legs…my back…my arm aye, but not so much as my chest and back." The hobbit closed his eyes and fell into a doze, but woke a little bit later, with coughing. The hobbit held onto the couch with a death grip as he did so and by the time he was done with the coughing he was crying from the pain. His nightclothes looked as if he had been dunked into water they were so wet from sweat. With one last cough a small

amount of green phlegm, spotted red, came up. The lad lay back wearily and closed his eyes.

"No more talking," he begged hoarsely.

While living among the Dunedain Aragorn had seen this illness before, but he had never seen it this fierce before. He rubbed Merry's back as he coughed, because that was all he could do for Merry at the moment. As Elessar massaged his back, he felt the fever rise, even through the nightshirt. The king knew his fever had to be broken if Merry was to survive. Hurriedly he went outside and filled a pail with snow. Going back inside he told Merry, "This is going to feel almost unbearably cold but I must get your fever down." With that, he took a handful of snow, wrapped it in a thin cloth and laid it on Merry's forehead and chest. After he had done so, he then placed his hands on Merry's head and chest and hummed an Elvish healing chant. The effect was to relax Merry to the point where he could sleep, without pain and interruption from anything, for a few hours. He hoped his friends would soon return with Pippin and Pansy with the athelas.

Merry whimpered as he lay on the couch. His eyes moved under the closed lids. He bit his lip and clutched the blankets in his clammy hands. Merry squirmed and tossed from the fever. Wearily, Merry opened his eyes when Aragorn spoke. All Merry did was nod, he did not wish to speak because of the coughing that would come with it. Merry hissed as Aragorn put the snow on him, but he did not fight him. The snow melted almost as soon as Aragorn had placed it on him, but it did not cool the fever.

When Aragorn sang the Elvish song, Merry wearily closed his eyes and fell asleep quickly. He felt no pain or anything for the first time in a while. The ill hobbit woke a few hours later with a strange gasp. His eyes were wide. The hobbit sat up straight and tried to get air in, but it was in vain. The only sound that came from his throat was a squeak and a funny wheezing sound. Merry looked around frantically. "Hhhhhh," Merry gasped. He was trying to say help, but he could not. Dizziness and the threat of unconsciousness took him. Merry grasped the couch tightly and suddenly started to cough. The green phlegm that was closing his throat up was coming up. This time there was even more blood in it. He lay back wearily when it was over. Slowly this world melted away and around him. The dissolved world, slowly resolved and he was in Hobbiton with his cousins Frodo and Pippin. There was a blanket spread over the ground and a large assortment of food was laid out over it. The three hobbits were enjoying the food greatly and were not paying attention to the sky nor the weather. They only looked up when large, fat drops of rain hit them squarely on the top of their heads. "Let's go," Merry yelled, not only in his fake reality and in the real, though it was a moan. Merry shook uncontrollably. He kept grasping and un-grasping his blanket and kicking his legs listlessly. His chest rose erratically and his face was scrunched up with pain and discomfort.

Pansy and Pippin were on their way back to Brandyhall with all the athelas they could find, while Legolas and Gimli rushed towards Pippin's house, unaware he was not there. Running hastily, they reached the gate at the same time as the dwarf and elf.

"Gimli! Legolas," Pippin cried. Jerking his head back toward Pansy, he said "This is Pansy. She told me about Merry."

Gimli and Legolas nodded, having already met the lass and the group made their way towards Brandyhall.


	8. Wonders

After Merry finished coughing, he went and made Merry some spearmint tea to clear his throat when he heard gasps and moans from the couch. He went back to Merry and took his hand once again. "Merry, it is going to be alright. Just relax," he paused and whispered, "Go to sleep...sleep," as he watched as Merry's eyelids fluttered and closed. He then returned to the tea he was making and made it as strong as he possibly could. He left it over the fire to keep it hot until Merry awoke. Aragorn then went and sat in a chair and watched him intently.

Merry felt Aragorn as he took his hand and heard him speak to him. _Relax? How may I relax? I cannot breathe! This is bad, very bad_, He thought, _you don' even know how bad this is! I am worse then even Pippin got and he about died._ A strangled sound came from his tight throat at the last word that entered his mind. Merry was dying and it scared him.

_Merry was with his dear Pippin. They were fishing, laughing, and having a grand time. Merry stood as something pulled on his line. The hobbit pulled back, but he was pulled in and under the water. Merry gasped and water filled his lungs._

Merriadoc's face turned chalky white and the skin around his lips went pale blue. His chest barely rose and with the pitiful breaths that came into his lungs, a sound of death echoed from deep within.

Aragorn rose and grabbed Merry. He sat him up straight and began to hit his back slightly, to loosen up the deadly fluid. "Come on Merry, you can make it through this." He laid Merry back down when he breathed in a more normal way, took a cloth, dipped it in water, and mopped Merry's forehead once again. Aragorn then went and filled a cup with the spearmint tea he had made and sitting Merry up once again tried to get him to swallow at least a little. "Just try to swallow a bit Merry, it will help you." When Aragorn got a very small amount down Merry's throat, he sat the cup on the table. Then, he rose and crushing more athelas, soaked a few rags in it and laid them again on Merry's chest. He held the bowl once more in front of Merry's face. His thoughts drifted back to when he first had healed Merry. That time he had been successful but he did not know if he had the power or skill to heal him this time. _If only he had brought Ioreth with him for she was the most skilled healer in all of Gondor_, he thought with a sigh. Aragorn tried to brush away the "what ifs" as he held Merry's hand in his. "You cannot give up Merry. There are people who need you, Pippin for instance. You are very dear to him and if you were to die, he would never recover from the shock. You must pull through this and be strong, my friend." Aragorn sat back, wondering how long it would take Legolas and Gimli to find Pippin.


	9. Helps Here

Merry could scarcely feel or hear anything. His mind was muddled and his body felt as if it was not there. He felt himself sinking – sinking into darkness of the deepest depths of an inky lake. Suddenly, he felt as if he was being pulled out of the inky blackness and the water/poison came out of his tortured lungs. The fluid was a horrible shade, a mix of green and red. With one last cough and some more phlegm coming out he gave a shiver and was still. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He did not know where or who he was. All he knew pain, heat, and tortured breathing. He heard someone speaking to him, he but had no clue who it was or what he wanted, though that was soon figured out. Hastily, he shook his head. Merry did not want the concoction being offered to him. He absolutely hated spearmint. Merry was startled when, the person tried to make him drink it. Some went down and he about gagged on the bitter tea. The hobbit sputtered and whimpered. The drink had hurt his already chaffed throat.

Then, Merry felt some relief when the person placed something hot on his chest. _That was where heat helped, not my throat_, Merry thought. His muscles relaxed and the hobbit found he could swallow just slightly without wishing to scream from the torture. He heard the person speak again or he thought he did. He did not understand what he thought he heard, except for one word – Pippin. What about Pippin? Had something happened to him? Was he ill? Worry came into Merry's still slightly chalky features. Merry let out a whimper, a cry of fear and pain.

Aragorn sat near Merry and tried to quiet his friend, but to no avail. He rose and began to pace the room. Where was Pansy and Pippin? He needed them here! Sighing, he went and sat on the couch by Merry and held his hand. He placed another hot cloth on Merry's chest stroked his forehead. Aragorn knew he could **not** let Merry die. Too many people would be heartbroken. He sighed and bent his face near Merry's and said, "Merry, listen to me. You are stronger than this illness. You can pull through it! You must," Aragorn then anxiously stared out of the window.

He rose slowly, though the hobbit did not know it. He was no aware of the cloth that had been placed on his chest. Merry had to get to Pippin - he just had to! Merry tried to stand. He had to get to Pippin, he just had to! However, as soon as he stood, a wave of dizziness and weakness swept over him and he had to sit down, well it was more like his knees buckled and he fell onto the couch.

_He was back at the Smials with Pippin. Both were very young. They were playing together and having a jolly time. Merry had convinced Pippin to climb up in the apple tree with him and for some reason and somehow, Fredgar, who was playing with some rocks, convinced Merry to climb back down and leave Pippin in the tree. Merry told himself that Pippin could climb down on his own, and went along with it. But, soon Pippin was crying for Merry. With a dirty look at Fred, Merry climbed down and got Pippin out of the tree. "I am so sorry, Pippin." Merry sobbed and found himself in a comforting embrace of his little cousin. "Don' cry 'erry!" he exclaimed, "Tis al'righ'."_

As Merry shifted in and out of consciousness, he mumbled in delirium of the memory. Merry shifted uncomfortably and balled his hands around his blankets tightly.

Aragorn had been surprised by Merry's sudden upright position. He had just been ready to help him lay down, when Merry lay himself down. The man glanced out the window. Where were they? They were needed. Again, he looked down at the pale being, which had once been a playful companion and a brave warrior. Just seeing him like this saddened him. He then took up each rag and fully soaked them into the Athelas, renewing the warmth. Carefully the king placed them on Merry's chest. The poor hobbit was pale, ghostly pale. Death would be on the lad's doorstep soon enough. Aragorn wiped his forehead as stared down at the hobbit. He took one of the rags in his hand and laid it onto Merry's forehead hoping that would do some good.

"Where are they?" he whispered quietly, glancing again over his shoulder to look out the window. The trio was not in sight range. Merry would need Pippin's support for this one. Perhaps Pippin would even be able to help his dear friend recover. He exhaled, running his hand along Merry's sweat damp curls but stopped to the hobbit's indistinct murmurings. He stooped close to the hobbit's lips and could only make a few words. Most were related to Pippin.

Suddenly in the midst of the silence, horses could be heard approaching. "Thank Eru," he whispered, "Help is here Merry." The man sighed with relief. One thing had been completed. Now the second and most dire thing had to be finished – the healing of Merry.


	10. Worry

Pippin stood next to looking, looking like a child, wanting to go in. Pippins face was just as pale as Merry's but only from fear and his green eyes were wide and frightened

Pansy stood beside Pippin. She was quite worried and it showed. As she stood there, she thought of a long ago summer.

_The summer breeze blew, and Pansy stood on a long thin branch, reaching for a bright red apple. Merry stood below with Pippin, holding a blanket to catch the fruits without bruising them. The lass and Peregrin were both pre-teens, and Merry was just barely beyond._

_Just as she was about to grasp the apple, the branch creaked. After a short pause, nothing happened. Pansy again reached out, taking the apple. Suddenly the branch snapped, and the lass tumbled down._

_Merry and Pippin acted quickly, stretching the blanket to break her fall. Sure enough, Pansy landed feet first into the blanket, tripping forward. She landed with a soft thud onto Merry, toppling him over. The apple was still in her hand, completely unharmed._

_" Thank ye! I could have been really hurt, but you saved me," she exclaimed, sitting up. Tears were in her eyes, the shameless tears of a child. She hugged Merry tightly, and kissed his cheek gently. Brushing herself off, she got up and walked over to Pip._

_"Thank you, Peregrin. You saved me too!" she kissed him gently on the forehead, as she was slightly taller at the time. The hobbits sat and ate their fill of delicious ripe apples, watching the butterflies flit through the skies..._

The dwarf and elf led them into the home

Pippin padded quickly into the living room, finding Aragorn sitting next to a very pale, sweaty-looking hobbit. "Merry!" he cried, rushing to his ailing cousin's side. "Aragorn, what's wrong with him?"

The man looked at the desperate hobbit that had tears welling up in his normally jovial eyes, and took his hand. "He has the winter flu, Pippin. I am working to heal him."

The tears Pippin had been holding back finally overflowed. "You've got to let me help him, Aragorn! He needs me, he needs my help!" He clenched his little fists as he spoke, a mixture of sorrow and anger washing over him.

As the man and hobbit conversed, Pansy looked from Aragorn to Pippin. She had long admired the hobbit's devotion and loyalty to his friends. She had heard the stories of how Merry had defeated the Witch King, and how Pippin saved a great city of Men almost single handedly (after five years of circulation, stories were bound to take on immense proportions). However, the stories never came close to describing Pippin's real loyalty. Pansy's own eyes welled up with tears; she could almost feel how heartbreaking this must have been for him.

Aragorn stood and took Pippin by the shoulders. He looked straight into his leek green eyes. "Peregrin Took, I need you to be rational, give me some time, and get some more hot water. That is how you can help your cousin."

"All right," Pippin whispered with his head hung low. Hot tears stung his eyes, and a few landed on the floor with the smallest of noises. In the silence, it seemed as though those sounds were like drum beats. Pippin went to the kitchen and set some water boiling. Pansy fetched another cloth for the feverish Merry's forehead, and soaked it in some cold water. Neither hobbit knew what might happen to their friend, nor did both wish that they would never find out.


	11. Memories

Merry perceived talking. It was loud and frightened. What was the person (Was it a new person? He thought so) saying? Merry did not know nor did he care. The only thing that sounded vaguely familiar was the word 'Merry', but he did not know how.

The ill hobbit felt something on his forehead. It was cool and wonderful. It brought back memories of his youth.

_He was in a pond. The water was only waist deep. His cousin was just a few feet away. Merry heard a gasp and a splash. The young hobbit turned swiftly. He looked around frantically._

"_Pippin! Pippin!" Merry cried out. The hobbit waded over to where Pippin had been. He dove under the cold water and looked around. Where was he? Merry could not find his cousin. For a good five minutes Merry could not find him, but then he spotted him a few yards away. He swam over to his cousin as fast as he could. Merry grabbed the back of Pippins' shirt. He kicked his legs hard as he swam to the surface of the water. Merry heaved his cousin onto the dry land. "Pippin…Pippin," Merry cried, shaking the hobbit gently. The younger hobbits head lolled from side to side. Merry went to the waters edge and scooped some of the water. Quickly, he went back to his unconscious cousin. He splashed his cousin._

"Pippin," Merry cried out in his fevered sleep as he clenched the blankets tightly. His chest heaved and his breath came out in a watery rattle.

Pippin heard his cousin's call from the other room. Grabbing the hot and full kettle, he rushed back to the living room. He had some small hope that his dear Merry had awakened. To his despair and disappointment Merry was still in a fitful slumber, grasping his blankets and breathing short, shallow breaths. _I will save you, Merry. I won't forget when you saved me_, Pippin thought.

_Pippin lay on his back, in shadow. Dark, strange creatures prowled around him, things that he had always imagined lived at the bottom of the lake. They licked their lips with blackened tongues, waiting to feed on the helpless hobbit. He tried to sit up, to move away, but something was holding him down, something wet and thick. He tried to call out to Merry, but nasty seaweed held him down and gagged him._

"Pippin...Pippin," Merry murmured. The words tumbled from his lips. They sounded more like nonsensical sound than actual words. His eyes opened, but just for a moment, just long enough to see the form of Pippin standing there clutching something in his hands.

_Merry danced with Estella. She was a pretty lass, who was just a little younger than Merry was. 'Round and 'round they went in a waltz. They laughed as they did so. This was a special night. There was a party going on for the fall harvest. Merry and Estella passed Pippin, who was playing the fiddle. Merry paused from dancing and grabbed Pippin, leaving 'Estella, laughing, behind._

A small, weary smile played on his flush features as he remembered this. Merry's smile then faded.

_He rushed into the Took's home. "Is he all right?" Merry demanded. Mr. Took had a tired and grim look on his face. "I am afraid not, Meriadoc." Paladin replied._

_"Let me see him," Merry said harshly. Mr. Took nodded gently and led Merry to his cousin. Merry gasped when he saw how frail and pale his cousin was. Merry went over to Pippin and took up one of his hands._

"Oh Pip, you are so ill," Merry whispered, "Don't leave...Don't leave." A small tear trickled down his cheek.

Aragorn looked from Merry to Pippin. He silently asked for an explanation to what Merry said. With the look Aragorn gave him, Pippin took a breath and began to explain. "I-I also had the winter fl u when I was eight, because I had almost drowned that summer. I nearly didn't make it and I wouldn't have, if it were not for Merry. Merry saved me that day and he stayed by me when I was sick. I have to save Merry, not just for him, but for me too. If I can't save him, I don't know what I'll do," Pippin replied.

Aragorn listened while Pippin told his story, and it became clear how much Pippin loved his cousin, as clear as that day on the fields of Pelennor.

_Pippin ran towards the prone figure of Meriadoc on the battle field, surrounded by corpses of all kinds. For a moment, it seemed that Merry was as lifeless as those around him, and all hope seemed lost. "Merry!" the younger hobbit cried, letting his small sword fall to the ground as he ran to his Merry. He coughed and smiled weakly. "I knew you'd find me, Pip…"_

"_It's all right Merry. I'm goin' to take care of ye." Pippin said softly._

Pansy was in tears, overcome by grief. She hoped that Merry would be well soon, and as Peregrin spoke, she realized that she too would be as helpless without Merry. When did Merry become so important to her? Why did she care so much?

_It was a warm summer's evening. Tomorrow around noon, Merry would be leaving on a journey to Bree, to help his cousin. All the hobbits of the Shire knew however, that Frodo was just moving to Buckland and Merry was going to help him move his things._

_But right now, that was not important. Pansy thought very little of what was to come the next day, she knew she would see her Merry in a couple of days. She hugged him gently as they sat under the apple tree, watching the stars come slowly into view above them. The tree had a scar where the branch had been grafted back on, but it bore the sweetest and juiciest apples of all. The nearby Brandywine flowed lazily in a meandering curve, the sun's last light reflecting off the surface of the water which created fleeting sparkles._

" _How long is this move going to take?" she asked, dreading the days ahead without her hobbit friend at her side._

_Merry looked at Pansy. He shifted slightly. Then the hobbit bit his lip. "I don't know how long it will take. It shouldn't take very long. A week at most," Merry replied, not knowing it would take over two years. He looked at Pansy and took her hand. The hobbit gave it a friendly squeeze_.

The ill hobbit felt someone take up his hand. It was comforting and loving. Who it was, Merry did not know, though he did not care that he did not know. Merry was so ill, he did not even know why he did not know nor did Merry know he was ill.

_Merry stroked his frail cousin's hand absently with one of his thumbs. He bowed his head and looked at the young hobbit. Pippins face was drawn and pale, yet it was clammy. He did not move. Deep in his chest, there was a horrible rattle. "Oh Pip, you can get through this. Don't let this take over. You are stronger then that. Come one dear," Merry whispered as one tear trickled down his face. He curled up beside his cousin carefully so that he did not jostle him. "Please, wake up, Pippin dear, please," he whispered._

_Merry lay on the battlefield of Pelennor. He was under a huge beast and it was squashing him. He was as still as a corpse and a cold as one. The only thing that kept him alive was the thought that he would see his dear Pippin soon. The hobbit heard someone something coming towards him. His eyes opened weakly and the maimed hobbits' heart leapt. Weakly he coughed and gave him the best smile he could muster. "I knew you'd find me, Pip…" Merry murmured. He broke off suddenly and a moan filled with agony escaped his cracked lips._

Merry shifted uncomfortable. He pushed against the blankets trying to remove them. Suddenly, he stopped moving. The hobbit was still. He became paler. It was a different paleness - a bad paleness.

_Merry woke. He was not by his cousin. Merry looked around. He was in the library. There were footsteps outside the door and Pippins father came in. "Merry…" he began. Hurriedly and with fear he stood. "Uncle is he…is he…" Merry gasped._

"_Dead? No…not yet, but…" he faltered and drifted off._

"_What?" Merry demanded, "Tell me now, please!"_

"_Pippin, he-he is not going to make it. You need to go to say good-bye," the older hobbit said in a grave voice._

_Merry's face turned pale as a sheet. "No…no," Merry murmured, sinking onto the couch that he had just been laying on. He looked up at his uncle with wide brown eyes. Suddenly, Merry stood. He stormed out of the library. Merry rushed down the hall. He stopped outside of the room. He heard people talking in Pippins' room. Merry pressed himself against the wall. Merry tried to hear what was being said, but the hobbits, which were in his ill cousins room, were too quiet to be understood. After a moment, Merry heard a sob and then Pippins' mother, led by the hearer, left Pippins room. They went past Merry without even seeing him. Slowly, Merry took in a shaky breath He then left his post and went to the door. Merry went to the door and slowly the hobbit entered the sick room. What Merry saw took his breath away and broke his heart. Pippin was so much worse looking and sounding. The hobbit felt tears well up in his eyes, but he did not cry. Carefully, Merry went over to the bed. He took one of his cousin's hands. Merry brought it up to his lips and gently kissed it. "Oh Pippin," Merry whispered, "Don't leave me…don't." Merry closed his eyes and tears trickled down his face._

Aragorn stood abruptly when he saw how pale Merry was. He went over to Pippin and Pansy. The king placed a hand on both of their shoulder's and steered them out of the room. He did not say anything until they were out the door. "Go check on Rosie," he instructed to Pansy and then to Pippin, "Go to a room and rest Peregrin. I will come and get you when it is time." Aragorn then closed the door and turned to the matter at hand. The king went over to the bed. He stooped and felt Merry's forehead. He was so hot. Hotter then he had ever been. Gently, Aragorn brushed a stray hair away from Merry's sweaty brow. Grabbing a cloth, he soaked it in cool water and wiped the ill hobbits forehead. Aragorn dropped the cloth back into the water. He then placed a hand on Merry's chest. He could feel the watery rattle as Merry fought to bring in air. Aragorn closed his gray eyes and bowed his head over the hobbit. "Túla, Meriadoc, at a amin. Ed i eruanna en Eru," Aragorn chanted in a soft voice.

Merry heard a soft voice. It drew him. Slowly, Merry opened his eyes. He saw a form bending over him. It was blurry and he had not idea whom it was. He felt for a moment, no pain and for a second Merry could breathe with ease. The hobbit then gasped and grabbed the blankets tightly. He closed his eyes and was still.


	12. Time Slipping Away

Legolas and Gimli had been sitting silently with Aragorn as they kept vigil. Legolas' gaze fell on Merry. He noticed that Merry was looking really ill. Aragorn was by the hobbit's side again, wiping the ill hobbit's forehead with a wet cloth. He bowed his head over the hobbit. Legolas noticed that Merry's breathing had become difficult and his face was pale, but his cheeks were red with fever. His hair was wet from sweat and stuck to his forehead and neck in clumps. He looked very bad.

Aragorn moved away from where Merry lay. He sat down in a small wooden chair that was just a little ways away from the ill hobbit. The king looked wearily at his elven friend and then at Merry. His gaze drifted again to Legolas. "He will not last the night," Aragorn whispered in a grave voice, "I have done all that I can. His fever will not break and athleas has no affect on him. I do not know how many times I can call him back to the world of living. I-I wish I could save him. Legolas," Aragorns voice broke, "How am I going to tell Peregrin and Pansy that they have to say good-bye? How," Aragorn asked this in a soft voice, "I had to send Pippin away. He has not left Merry's' side in four days. The hobbit has not slept and barely ate or drank. He is so dedicated to Merry. It will break him - crush him." Aragorn shook his head. His tired, brown eyes drifted away from the elf prince and settled on Merry.

Merry was still as death, except for the erratic rising and lowering of his chest as he tried in vain to get air into his fluid filled lungs. The hobbits ashen, pale face was drawn as he tried to get the air in. Around his lips there was a faint tint of grayish-blue. The proper amount of oxygen was not getting to his lungs. When he did manage to breathe in, the sound that came out was a deep rattle - it was the sound of death.

Merry had slipped into a world where there was no time, space, or thought. He had no idea what was going on around him. Merry knew naught who he was or that anyone else was around. He even felt less pain. There darkness around him. It was like a blanket - it enveloped and comforted him in a strange way. There was no more fear. He was ready to let go.

Legolas heard Aragorn move away from Merry. He turned his gaze on the king. Though not as pale as the sick hobbit, Aragorn looked exhausted. Legolas watched as he sat down in a small chair next to Merry and his gaze drifted from the elf to the hobbit before settling back on the elf again.

Legolas heard him whisper: "He will not last the night. I have done all that I can. His fever will not break and athleas has no affect on him. I do not know how many times I can call him back to the world of living. I-I wish I could save him. Legolas..."

In the end, Aragorn's voice held a hint of desperation and it broke. Legolas wanted to say something to soothe him, but he could also feel that Aragorn wasn't finished with speaking yet.

"How am I going to tell Peregrin and Pansy that they have to say good-bye? How?" Aragorn asked in a soft voice while still looking at Legolas. But Legolas didn't know either. He prayed on the Valar that the hobbit will survive, but he also knew that Aragorn was the best healer in Middle-earth after Lord Elrond. If he says Merry will not last the night then only a miracle can save the hobbit.

The king also informed them that he had to send Pippin away. Apparently, the little hobbit had not left his sick cousin's side in four days, nor had he slept, drank or ate. "He is so dedicated to Merry. It will break him - crush him." Legolas heard Aragorn say. He thought about the words. Pippin loved his cousin, Legolas knew that. He can't help but agree with Aragorn. It will break the little hobbit if Merry died. Legolas' gaze drifted back to the hobbit as well and he felt Gimli next to him did the same. Merry was dying. That was visible. His appearance and breathing held the signs of death. Legolas felt the hobbit's life fading. Merry was ready to let go.

Silently, Legolas prayed on the Valar. His death would not only affect Pippin, but everyone who cared for him_. Please hold on Merry. I know you can do it. You're strong enough to do so. You've proven your strength at the battle in Pelennor Fields. Don't give up now, _Legolas thought.

"Merry has been through so much. He has fought and won so many battles, but this one is too large and over-whelming for this little being," Aragorn said softly as if knowing what Legolas thought.

Merry battled to draw air into his inflamed and filled lungs. A rattle echoed from deep down. Weakly, Merry opened his eyes, which burned. The hobbit could scarcely see a thing. His fevered brow furrowed as he tried to see what was going on.

Aragorn noticed that Merry was awake. Thinking the hobbit might like some water; he stood and got a glass of water. He held it to the hobbits lips and let him drink. Merry took too big of a drink and began to cough. The king raised Merry into a sitting position and supported him as he coughed. Merry leaned against Aragorn after it was over. His chest heaved as if that had been too much. When he was breathing as normally as he was able, Merry asked something, but it was too slurred to understand. Merry fell back into darkness and gently Aragorn laid the ill hobbit back. What was he going to do? Aragorn wearily sat back down upon the chair that was just slightly too small for him. He ran a hand through his brown locks as he stared wearily at the floor. For a long while the man did not say a word. "Legolas," he whispered, "In my years I have never have I not been able to heal, why now?" His voice was cracked and filled with emotion.

Legolas approached Aragorn and placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "We cannot know why fate decides to run certain actions in a certain way, but if it is his destiny, there's not much we can do about it. Don't blame yourself, Mellon nin. You've done what you can," He said soothingly, "There is a reason for everything. Reasons we do not know, but they are here. Life has its many turns and twists and this is just another turn for Merry. Wither he is able to pull himself out of it, it's mostly up to him. We will do whatever we can to aid him in the process, but he will be the one who is fighting."

Aragorn glanced up at Legolas. His brown eyes weary. "Tell me, Mellon, what is the purpose of this illness?" Aragorn said.

Legolas glanced at Merry and sighed. He wished there was something he could do to help this hobbit. But he was no healer; he did not know how to help the sick ones get better. Elves normally don't get ill, so he cannot say he has many experiences on it. Legolas closed his eyes. He felt helpless. Fighting orcs and wargs he could do. Helping the trees and the nature around him was not a problem. Formal duties he could perform. But when his friends needed him, he did not know what to do. "Estel," Legolas said softly, unconsciously slipping into Aragorn's childhood name, "as I said, we cannot possibly know what fate holds for us. I do not know the purpose of this illness, anymore than I could know about how the brain of stubborn dwarves works."

Gimli, who had been nodding in agreement with Legolas' words looked up and glared. "Hey! I don't understand yeh elves," Gimli huffed.

Legolas smiled that his little attempt had worked. "I apologize, friend Gimli, for the fact that you cannot understand my words as they are too complicated for you stubborn dwarven mind." Legolas said in a teasing tone.

Aragorn looked at the two bickering beings and sighed heavily. Now was no time to argue - especially with death so close at hand. "I will be back. It is time to tell Peregrin," he said.


	13. Hours Before and Memories II

Pansy had gone to the Gamgees home just as she had promised. She had in fact fallen asleep there. The last few days had been very hard for her.

Meanwhile, back at Brandyhall, hours later, Aragorn had begged Pippin to go bed. Pippin shook his head. "I don't want to leave his side. But I will rest, on one condition… I only ask that you let me sleep here, where I can be near him. I don't mind sleeping on the floor. You and I have slept in worse places." He gave the King a weary smile. "Please, I just want to stay near him, even if it's just for a little while. He needs me at his side."

Aragorn shook his head. "Pippin, please," Aragorn begged, "Merry would not want you sleeping on the floor. I will come get you in a few hours time." The king sighed as Pippin did not listen to him.

Merry felt as if he were floating far above everything. He felt no pain or suffering. He then felt as if he were being pulled back or perhaps it was falling. Soon there were pain and watery sounds.

_Merry rocked back and forth, he cradled Pippins hand in his own. "Don't leave...don't leave," he sobbed. His eyes were closed tightly and tears spilled out of them._

_Pippin felt something warm and comfortable holding his hand. In his delirium, he realized that they were hands, familiar and gentle. "Mer, Merry…" he mumbled, his forehead covered in a cold sweat. Moving slowly and painfully, the younger hobbit moved his other hand over to Merry's hands, and grasped them. His grip was surprisingly firm for one so ill. He turned his head and opened his eyes slightly, looking up at his dear cousin. "Don't be afraid. I won't… leave you, not… not yet." Peregrin smiled weakly and closed his eyes._

_The elder hobbit smiled weakly at his young and very ill cousin. "Hullo Pippin dear," he whispered softly. With one hand he stroked a wet curl away from Pippin's fevered forehead. "Shh…you rest," Merry said. "I-I can' help being scared, my Pip. You are so...so sick." Merry closed his eyes and kept a firm grasp on his cousin's hand._

Merry cried out pitifully and coughed weakly.

Pippin came back with a small blanket and a pillow. He nearly dropped it when he heard his cousin's cry, but recovered and set up his bed in front of the couch, where he could look up and see Merry's face. At least he could be there for his cousin, just as his cousin had been there for him. He thought about Pansy's reluctant exit and wondered if she was as worried as he was.

_Pippin opened his eyes again. Something Merry-shaped was still there, but with different colored clothing; or at least, the blobs he did see reminded him of clothes. "Mer-merry," came the whisper from his cracked, dry lips. His very words seemed to rattle, death overhanging every syllable he uttered. He lifted his hands towards the familiar face, and as he did so, Pippin felt that Merry was on the other side of the room, even though he could see him right in front of him._

_"Shush now...you need to not waste any of your strength," Merry said, brushing hair away from his cousins' hot forehead. With the other he got a glass of water and held it to his cousins' dry and parched lips. "Little sips...Don't try swallowing it Pippin dear, just let it slide down," Merry instructed with a kind voice. Pippin's voice scared him. It did not sound like his - there was no lilt or familiar Took brogue. Merry sighed and when Pippin had drunk some water, he placed the cup on the table._

_Painfully, he finally reached his cousin's face. "Merry?" he asked once he had regained some of his voice, fear filling him as the room began to swirl to black. Shadows loomed, darker than even the blackness closing in, and they waited at the edges of the growing shadow. He grasped Merry's hand in his, tears beginning to mingle with the sweat, eyes opening wider, pupils dilating. "Merry… Am, am I… Am I goin' to die?" he breathed feebly, his chest hurting him greatly._

_"Yes," he said in reply. Gently Merry touched Pippin's little hand. It was so hot. Merry vaguely wondered if an egg could be fried on that hand. "Don't cry dear. It will just make you cough and then the healers will come in and you will have to have more of the nasty concoctions they are giving you." The hobbit wiped the tears away. "If I can help it you won't be," Merry said, but he left out the fact that no matter what Pippin's fever would not lower and that the medicines were barely helping with keeping his young lungs from filling up._

_He pulled at Merry's arm with his hand, his grip as weak as a newborn child. "Don't let them hurt me Merry! I don't want to leave! I want to stay here!" Pippin made one last effort to hold on to his cousin as the creatures that had been waiting pulled at him in the growing darkness of unconsciousness. His hand fell limp._

_"Who?" Merry asked bewildered, "Pippin? Pippin!" Merry voice rose and tears began to fall. Merry continued crying. He held Pippin's lifeless hand in his own and pressed it tightly to his cheek as if that would keep his beloved cousin there. "Please…" he begged him and got no response. "Pippin, don't leave me in this world. I need you. Stay with me dearest. It is not your time. This is not how we shall part." Merry continued to rock. He held the hand of his near dead cousin. He fell asleep sitting up._

"Pippin," Aragorn said in a slight sharp tone, "I am ordering you to go to a guest room and sleep." Aragorn stood from his seat and steered Pippin out the door. "Do not come back here until I come to you," Aragorn said quietly, shutting the door.

Pippin protested and tried to push against the mighty King's hands as they held him back, but gave up, knowing he would never make him change his mind. Perhaps it was for the best that he left Merry to sleep, and maybe Aragorn was right, they didn't need any more sick hobbits. He sighed and went to the guest room, his heart pounding in his ears.

_The hobbit looked at Pansy and smiled. "Don't worry, Pans...I will be home soon," he said, ruffling her hair playfully._

_"The sooner the better, Mer… I'm goin' to miss ye." A tear trickled down Pansy's face as she took Merry's hand and held it for a moment. The breeze blew, and a chill seemed to fill the air. She and Merry had been best friends, a relationship second only to his cousin Pippin. Something seemed to clutch at her chest; a tight, uncomfortable feeling. What was it? She didn't know. All she knew was that Merry would be back in a few days._

_A week passed, and then two, then a month. Rumors spread all over Hobbiton about four hobbits disappearing; one of them being Frodo Baggins, Merry's cousin. Pansy knew that Merry was among them. Fears of his fate filled her mind, fears that he had left her behind, or worse… She didn't want to think of what was worse. She continued to work at the Green Dragon, consoling Rosie. She had also seemed worried about the missing hobbits and one in particular. One day, they had even sat down and cried after they cleaned up at the end of the day._

_A year later, everything had changed. An old man, one of the Big Folk, had come to the Shire with a band of brigands and wayward hobbits. Life was miserable then, all these new rules and taxes and people going to jail over the pettiest things… Pansy hated it. She had nearly lost her livelihood, her life, and her sanity numerous times when news of the return of two hobbits, and two creatures that looked like hobbits but much taller, came to her. Merry, she had thought._

_She didn't know how right she had been at the time. He and his cousins and Samwise reclaimed the Shire, and rebuilt it. He and Pippin seemed to tower over the other hobbits, even "Big" John Proudfoot. The old Party Tree had been replaced and later, Sam and Rosie married beneath the sapling's lithe boughs. Pippin married Diamond there, too. Pansy was happy to see them all so happy, but one hobbit had caught her eye. Frodo seemed different somehow, and he was forever wearing a clear crystal on a chain. That was when she started becoming enamored with him. He was handsome, kind, and above all mysterious, and that was what intrigued Pansy the most. But something also didn't seem right with another hobbit, and she often felt his presence at the back of her mind. _

Back at Bagend, Pansy sat bolt upright. She had been woken by a sound that was like a forest being felled. Rosie was snoring. _I didn't know she snored_, thought Pansy, giggling to herself a bit as she checked on Rosie again, who slept peacefully. Taking a second pillow, she propped the hobbit's head up to lessen the noise. It was something she did when her mother fell asleep and it always seemed to work.

She decided all was well, that she should probably get back to Elessar, and report to him how Rosie was faring. She trudged through the snow, barely noticing the prickly sensation in her feet as a new thought rose in her mind. She had been sleeping for a few hours, she judged by the light of mid-morning. And another person lay sick, a hobbit who had been overlooked for far too long: Merry. She picked up the pace, hoping that he would be all right.


	14. Into the West

The night had fallen. Aragorn had gone to sleep as he had kept vigil. The fire burned fierce in both Merry and in the fireplace. Things seemed peaceful – serene. But something was not right. It was too still. Aragorn sat up suddenly. He looked at Merry who was so ashen pale and his lips were blue tinted. The hobbit barely moved. A different sound echoed from his chest and lips and he tried to get any air in. The hobbit would be dead soon, Aragorn knew. The king knew he must try everything to keep him alive and Aragorn. Nothing worked – no salve, no enchantment, no tea, nothing. Slowly, the King stood and went to the door. He looked back at Merry and then left the room. The king went to where Pippin was staying and softly knocked.

Pippin sat up; he had only just begun to doze off, after much worrying. He'd had half-dreams of waking up to find his cousin well saying, "Surprise, I was just joking!". But the soft knock brought with it sharp reality, and Pippin feared and hoped for an answer to his cousin's ailment. When he opened the door and saw Aragorn's face, Pippin's first instinct was to slam the door shut again, hide under the blankets and cover his head with the pillow until everything became right again. He fought his childish feelings and looked up into the eyes of the King, and asked, "What happened?"

The hobbit dreaded what would be said next, and knew that something had happened to his cousin. His heart leapt into his throat, and the throbbing sound was worse than ever.

"Peregrin," Aragorn began weakly. He blinked a few times. "Merry is not going to make it through the night. He is going to leave this world and enter a new one. I have tried everything. The hobbit is too weak and his fever too high. Nothing will break it. His lungs are filling. You need to go say good-bye and to let him know that it is all right to leave."

Pansy had run all the way from Bagend. She rushed through the door and ran to the living room. She found Merry lying there, cold and pale and barely breathing. Something was terribly wrong with him. As realization dawned, she stepped back and tripped over a blanket, her head landing hard on the floor. She sat up quickly and held her head with both hands, but ran back to the guest room, ignoring the ringing in her ears and the growing bump on her head. When she reached the hall, she saw Aragorn explaining something to Pippin.

Pippin clenched his fists. "I will not lose him! I won't, I can't! Merry will be fine, you'll see!" he screamed at Aragorn, filling up with rage and tears. "Merry always pulls through. He always makes it, no matter what. I'll not say goodbye, I don't have to! I won't let him go." The hobbit swung out wildly Aragorn, connecting with the man's stomach. He punched again, softer this time as truth overtook his emotions and he visibly sagged. He looked up at Elessar with tears streaming down his face. "Oh Aragorn, I am so sorry. I just can't," He whispers as Pippin fell to his knees, weeping. Sobs wracked his tired body, but he didn't feel anything anymore, just despair.

"Peregrin Took," Aragorn began. He got no further for a short time as the hobbit yelled at him. When Pippin paused, Aragorn spoke. "Peregrin, sometimes things are bigger than the being and the war cannot be won. The Winter Sickness is just that. It is too big for him to fight anymore. He has fought, Mellon Nin, longer and harder than most, but the enemy is too great…too vast. Once in awhile the warrior falls, even if every time before he survives." The king looked down at Pippin as he spoke. The words were soft and kind and not cruel – like they could have been. Opening his mouth, Elessar started to speak, but no sound came out as the distraught hobbit punched him. It did not hurt and so the king just let Pippin punch until he was exhausted. As Pippin sank to his knees, Aragorn lifted him up and held the hobbit close to him and let Pippin weep. "Do not apologize – I have had worse reactions before," Aragorn said, stroking the mass of curls, "you must, Peregrin, even if it seems as if doing so will break you into a million pieces. Meriadoc is suffering so badly. He is being tortured."

The king paused. "In his delirium, Merry has whispered words. Many of them wereof you. He speaks mostly of when you were ill and all most died. Merry had to say good-bye, even though it tore him up and he was terrified. He did not want to loose you, but Pippin, he his wish for you not to suffer was greater. It takes a lot of love – love that is deep and unconditional – to do that. To be able to say good-bye even though you want the person there takes that." The words were in a gentle and logical voice. They were not cruel sounding. In fact, it was sadness that dripped from the words.

Pansy had been watching Pippin and Aragorn, and she knew that Merry was dying, with no way to bring him back. It seemed as though time had stopped, that the air had become water. Pansy gasped for air and collapsed sliding down the curved walls of the hall, catching the attention of the King and the hobbit. "No, not Merry!" she said, voice choked as she sat against the wall. "He can't die; it weren't supposed to be like this. Not when he could grow old and live a good life!" Anger tinged Pansy's world with crimson, sorrow made parts of the world blue. A livid purple slashed through everything as she tried to make sense of everything.

The king looked at Pansy as she cried out. Letting Pippin go, Aragorn went towards her and crouched. "Sometimes things happen naught the way they were supposed to," he whispered his voice slurred from exhaustion and sadness.

Pippin knelt down by the hobbit lass, weeping alongside her for a moment. Then he took her by the hand and lifted her off of the floor. "Come, Pansy we need to go say farewell to Merry." It pained him to say those words, but he couldn't bear to see another suffering so, and Pansy seemed more in need of comfort, as though she cared for Merry more than he, which was beyond his understanding. He cared infinitely more for his cousin than anyone in Middle Earth, Eru knew; but when he saw Pansy he saw something more.

Aragorn leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. After a moment of resting them, the king opened his eyes. "Perhaps it would be best if you said your good-byes separately. Peregrin, I shall come get you in a few minutes, after Pansy has said what she wished," he suggested, standing. Gently taking Pansy by the hand, he led her to the living room. "Legolas, túla. Láva i periannath a' namaarie a Meriadoc ereb," Aragorn said to his elven friend. He turned to Pansy. "If you need anything or something happens, cry out, I shall not be far," he said to her.

Merry lay on the couch. He was propped up so that his last breaths might be taken in easier; however the act of breathing was torture. With each breath it felt as if someone had poured fire down his throat and had sat a large boulder atop his chest – restricting the muscles until he could scarcely move. And he could hardly move. Barely his chest rose. When it did, there was a rattle in his chest. With each pitiful breath, the sound of death came out. The hobbits ashen face was drawn, his lips… pinched and his brow…furrowed. Sweat drenched his face and body. His mass of curls stuck to his head and Merry's hair was soaked, as were his bedclothes and the bedding. Instead of looking like the strong, sure hobbit that he normally did, Merry looked small and weak. He looked tired, fearful and in great distress. There was no awareness or recognition of where or who he was in his face.

Pansy slowly walked to the ailing hobbit's side, sitting down on the edge of the cushion on the couch. She reached out to touch Merry's hand, and felt the warmth leave her own fingers as she gently held it. Tears welled up in her eyes and she trembled as she leaned down by his pale face.

"Merry," she whispered softly, her voice quavering. "Merry, it's Pansy. I'm so… so very sorry. I've been ignoring ye all these years while ye lived alone. I looked to Frodo, the town hero, instead of ye. Ye are my true hero. Of all the hobbits of the Shire, ye were the kindest, gentlest… the funniest, too. Ye saved me, more than once. I owe my life to the other hobbits as well, but ye… I, I…" Pansy sobbed silently as she continued to look at the hobbit. Why didn't she tell him sooner? Why did he have to leave now?

"Merry, why can't ye stay? Stay here, please, stay with me." She leaned closer still, tears falling on Merry's pallid cheeks. She embraced him softly and gently kissed him. It seemed as though time had slowed down, that all the warmth in her body had left her. When she broke away, everything seemed go silent. With her head bowed, she whispered quietly in the darkness, "I love you…"

Weakly, Meriadoc opened his brown eyes. He was all puffed up and could scarcely see. Sweat dripped down his face and neck. The hobbit licked his blue lips. His chest rose raggedly. "I-I am sorry," he whispered. His throat was tight and the words Merry said were dripping with the sounds of failing lungs. The hobbit tried to focus on Pansy however, it was hard. Merry heard her talking and he tried to understand what she said. The hobbit closed his eyes wearily. "I can't. I'm so tired. I'm sorry," he breathed in a soft voice. His energy, the small amount he had, was failing.

Pansy looked down at the hobbit, his breaths ragged and weak. His lips moved, just barely enough to let the words, "I'm sorry", slip through. She nearly missed them, they were so hushed. When she heard those words, Pansy gasped. "What do ye mean, Merry? Why are ye sorry?"

Merry looked up at Pansy. His breathing was so shallow. "So tired…" he whispered, "Can't fight it much longer. So sorry..." As Merry spoke, the words irritated his throat. It made him cough. They wracked his body and shook him from head to foot. He felt as if his weak body would just fall into pieces if the coughing did not stop. They eventually did and he lay in his bed, weak and depleted of energy.

Pansy's eyes filled up with tears, and she took his hand again, stroking it gently, hoping this would ease the torture, at least a little bit. "Shh... I know ye are tired, I know. Don't trouble yourself now, just relax." As she set his hand down, the hobbit lass bit her lip to keep from crying out. She gently placed her other hand on his hot forehead, brushing his disheveled bangs from his eyes. "I must be dreaming. This can't be real. You'll be better in the morning, you'll see." She then got up and walked dazedly toward the room where the others were waiting. As soon as she was out of Merry's hearing, she slumped against the wall and sobbed into her skirts. The only hobbit she loved was slowly dying, and there was nothing she or anyone could do.

Aragorn stood from the couch he had been sitting on. He went over to Pansy and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. The ranger drew her close to him and stroked her hair gently. He looked wearily up at Pippin and nodded towards him. "Go," he whispered. Aragorn then led Pansy to the couch and sat her down upon it. The king then rose and got a pot of water boiling over the fire. He thought some tea might sooth her.

Merry felt himself fading away or maybe it was falling. He did not know. It was so confusing. Everything was, but he could not find the energy to care about that. His eyes wearily close and Merry just lay there as the energy slowly leaked out of him.

As Pansy continued to cry in the king's arms, Pippin made his way toward where his dear cousin lay. He shook with cold, or possibly chills, trying not to cry in front of Merry.

"Merry, it's Pippin. Do you remember? I took care of you in Minas Tirith," his whispered. A small smile crossed his face at the memory of his cousin's reply. His control over his emotions was slipping, and it was all he could do to keep quiet. He held Merry's hand gently as he spoke, the fear of losing him forever becoming more real with each wheezing breath his cousin took. They seemed to be getting shallower by the second, alarming Peregrin greatly.

Merry opened his eyes slightly when Pippin took hold of his hand. "It seems so distant – like a dream," Merry rasped out. He stared at Pippin with vacant and dull eyes. The life was slipping away from him with haste. He could feel it. "I'm sorry," he rasped out. His body quivered and Merry was still. His hand slipped from Pippin's and lay limp on the wrinkled bedcovers. The hobbit's eyes involuntarily closed and everything was still.

Pippin looked down at Merry. He gently shook his hand, trying to wake him. "Merry?"

There was no reply. Pippin shook his shoulders, this time a little harder. "Merry! Merry! Wake up, it's Pippin," Peregrin cried unknowingly and frantically. But it soon dawned on Pippin that he was shouting. He quieted himself and clutched Merry's lifeless body to his chest. Tears streamed down from his face. He could no longer hold back them back. "Merry, why did you leave me? Come back, I can't do this, not by myself. Merry, please come back," Pippin sobbed. There was no reply and never would be. Merry had died.


End file.
